Screwing with an Angel
by Crimson Lawliet
Summary: Dean lets his reservations go; this is pretty much a pwp and it was begun before Cas got all Godly, so Cas is still just an angel. Dean/Cas. General canon setting; not so canon activities.


Dean grabbed the lapels of Castiel's trench coat and tugged harshly, the action leading the stupified angel forward with awkward confusion. They were close enough so that their breaths mingled but there was still enough space so that Dean couldn't quite feel the angel's lips under his.

All in all, Castiel wasn't very fond of this new position and he was pretty sure that this broke one of the many rules set by Dean Winchester himself; this was definitely a violation of personal space.

"Dean?" Castiel questioned, the trademark head tilt doing nothing to help Dean's uncontrollable emotions. "What are you doing?"

Dean had originally meant to kiss the angel but, halfway through the action, realized what that would mean. And now he was staring at Castiel's eyes - blue and clear and puzzled - while trying to decide where to take it from there. "Just...wait," was Dean's intelligent response.

As far as Castiel was concerned, they had been perfectly fine; they were talking and Dean had just finished eating, there was nothing out of the usual, until Dean had stalked up to him and grabbed his coat out of nowhere.

Dean, however, knew much better. He knew that it was about time because he'd been having these thoughts slowly, gradually, till they spiraled out of his control and made him do incredible things. In the beginning, it was innocent curiosity - I mean, an angel had pulled him out of Hell for Heaven's sake, so there was bound to be a shitload of questions.

As time went on, it got progressively worse; fleeting thoughts on Castiel's eyes, wondering about the wings he never saw, caring for Castiel's health and, on rare occasions, Dean saw Castiel in his dreams. Even relying on the angel for help and company came as part of the unwelcomed package. Trusting the angel, liking the angel, fighting with the angel... Everything got so much worse.

Now, back in the real world and out of Dean's tormented mind, Castiel was still _waiting_. He wasn't very patient, so it was difficult, but he let Dean have his time. Even though he hadn't really meant to pry, Castiel could feel Dean's conflicted emotions, so he thought it best to go along with Dean's wishes for the time being.

Still...Castiel would have appreciated it if Dean didn't look at him with that narrowed, piercing stare.

"How much longer will I have to wait?" Castiel asked, fairly certain Dean would not like the interruption. "This is an uncomfortable position."

To Dean's experienced and perverted mind, the last statement conjured up a multitude of visualizations, all of which he was pleased with. Not that Castiel knew any of that.

Dean smiled, finally crashing back down into reality and seeing that he was still holding the angel close to him. More images flooded his mind. Dean cursed himself for what he going to do but, without much effort, pulled on the trench coat again until his lips connected with the angel's. Dean admitted that the feeling was weird, it was foreign, it was new - but it sure as heck wasn't _bad_.

Castiel was not as optimistic. In fact, he was just short of panicking; closing his eyes was the only thing he could do, since his whole body tensed, but the lack of sight only made his sense of touch highten (much to his dismay). It freaked him out - Dean's soft and gentle lips moving against his, the heat radiating off of Dean's body, the close proximity of this whole encounter - and he couldn't find it in himself to move even though he felt like he should.

That, of course, didn't mean that Castiel hated it. The shock had just caught him before the pleasure did. And it _was _pleasurable; it sent tiny jolts along his body and his brain into a wondrous high and, after the intial surprise, he relaxed a little. Castiel trusted Dean.

When Castiel finally relaxed in his hold, Dean pushed away just enough to lick the angel's lips tenderly, his affection for the angel unable to hide itself. The small curls of arousal pooled hotly in his abdomen and he moved his hands lower, past the trench coat, taking hold of Castiel's hips. He couldn't help himself, he couldn't think clearly. There was a foggy haze clouding his mind and his judgment and he could not let go.

Dean jerked Castiel's hips forward, layers of clothing separating them. His focus was entirely on Castiel and part of his mind sent him to Hell - _again _- for wanting to take an angel's virginity away, but the other part of him (the perverse side) found the thought more than a little sexy. Dean locked eyes with the angel, who stared back at him, before claiming his lips again.

This time, Castiel noticed, it was more forceful - almost possessive. Dean's mouth was coaxing him, trying to get him to open up, and the thought of that left Castiel feeling vulnerable. Dean was hungry, needy, and overwhelming; his scent, his body, his mouth - they were everywhere and Castiel couldn't breathe or think or speak. His mouth was slowly being pried apart by Dean's demanding lips and tongue, the hands on his hips gripping tighter and probably leaving bruises.

In answer to Dean's demands, Castiel tentatively opened his mouth, letting the intrusive tongue worm its way in and start probbing around. While Dean's tongue mapped his mouth, Castiel felt himself being led, almost pushed, backwards until his back hit the wall. Not knowing what else to do, Castiel let his hands clutch at the material of Dean's thin shirt.

And Dean felt it - the arousal between the both of them growing, his pants tightening, the adrenaline pulsing through him. Castiel certainly wasn't helping any, his hands so close to actual skin and his heat filling up Dean's entire being. Dean pressed harder against the slightly smaller body and his hands went to work, pulling Castiel's shirt out of his pants, letting himself feel the skin that lay underneath.

Dean ran his hands up and down Castiel's stomach, over his ribs, up to the angel's nipples. Castiel twitched under his ministrations, instinctively trying to pull away but only managing to sandwich himself more between Dean and the wall. Frustrated, Castiel grunted into the kiss, his hands tugging on Dean's shirt.

The sound sent shivers down Dean's body and he pulled away from the angel's swollen mouth, fingers pinching both perked buds at the same time. Castiel keened, his head tilting back and body arching. Dean tore his hands away from the silky smooth flesh to push the trench coat and blazer off the angel's thin shoulders. Without the extra articles of clothing, Castiel looked way more delicious and appealing.

Dean paused for a moment to scrutinize the angel. Castiel's breathing was shallow, his pupils dilated, skin flushed, lips wet and soft, pliant and inviting; his shirt hanging just off the shoulder, tie all messy and backwards-

Yeah, _very _delicious.

Continuing his work, Dean pressed his lips to Castiel's neck. He sucked and nipped at the sensitive flesh, his pride and confidence growing as Castiel's breath hitched and little whimpers escaped his throat. Dean's hands were on the angel's belt, unbuckling it and throwing it somewhere across the motel room.

Relying purely on instinct, Castiel thrust his hips up to meet Dean's, his pants getting painfully tight and an odd need filling him up. Their hips collided, the friction being good enough to make them both groan into each other's ear. Dean repeated the action, grinding down on Castiel's slender hips, almost hoping to leave more and more bruises all over the pure angel.

_His _angel.

Dean really liked the sound of that.

Castiel let his arms wind around Dean's neck, eyes fluttering shut under the onslaught of pleasure, while Dean's hands rubbed his hips rather suggestively.

And then, low and husky, Dean whispered, "I love you, Cas."

With that, Castiel's eyes snapped wide open. He briefly thought that this was not the best time for that, what with them grinding into each other sensually and all, but Castiel met Dean's eyes with a small smile. "I love you too, Dean Winchester."

Dean smirked at that and, in one fluid motion, quite literally ripped Castiel's shirt off. He nuzzled the side of the angel's face, smirk still plastered onto his face. "You better."

Castiel chuckled, his hands trailing down Dean's clothed chest. There was a problem with that. After a few quick pulls at the shirt, Dean understood what Castiel wanted and he got rid of his shirt in an instant, letting it land beside them somewhere.

Placing a kiss on Castiel's mouth, Dean pressed against the angel again, their bare upper bodies touching. Dean let a hand rest at the back of Castiel's neck, playing with the small hairs there, while he deepened the kiss.

Castiel let himself indulge in the kiss, let himself enjoy it, even if he was wildly inexperienced and perhaps even a bit clumsy. That wasn't what mattered; what mattered was Dean's chest against his, Dean's mouth against his, and the fire that had begun in his belly and traveled throughout his whole body in minutes. He really didn't know what to do with that fire, how to put it out, or what had caused it.

Not that it mattered much.

With Dean's hand teasing his hair, mouth lazily yet passionately moving with his own, and skin sliding against skin, Castiel couldn't focus on anything else. He didn't want to.

Dean broke the kiss, his free hand working on Castiel's button and zipper deftly all the while looking into the angel's eyes, keeping eye contact as he reached his hand into the angel's pants and boxers to get to the swelling prize beneath.

At the touch of Dean's cold, rough fingers on his cock Castiel moaned, hips jerking forward of their own accord. He could feel Dean's hand going up and down his entire shaft and twisting at the head and base. The dark emerald eyes that watched him only made him hotter, harder, and he felt his mind fog, legs weaken, as he gripped Dean's strong shoulders securely.

Dean was transfixed by the angel in front of him, locked in a haze of pleasure and heat. Usually, it would be Castiel that had him held in an uncomfortable gaze but now _he _had Castiel...

Ooh, that was a nice feeling.

Dean tightened his hold on the angel's cock, giving a self-satisfied smirk when Castiel slumped forward and groaned lowly, the angel's breath fanning over his throat. Dean let his other hand tangle in Castiel's hair, pulling roughly on the strands. He heard Castiel whine, so he did it again and again until the angel glared up at him, obviously not amused.

"What? I like hearing your voice," Dean said, smiling and shrugging.

Castiel rolled his eyes and moaned as Dean started on a faster rhythm along his length. A little bit of pre-cum smeared over Castiel's tip and shaft, wetting Dean's fingers and creating sensations that floored Castiel and that invited him to thrust into Dean's hand. So he did.

So Dean let go abruptly, making Castiel's questioning (and slightly pissed) eyes settle on him. Feeling rather kinky, Dean ran his wet hand through the angel's short dark locks; Castiel didn't appreciate the action at all.

"Dean," Castiel warned gruffly, "why did you stop?" Already, the angel missed the feeling of Dean's cool, harsh fingers stroking him _down there_. It was a frustrating feeling of desire and want mixed with impatience and need.

Instead of responding verbally to the question, Dean kneeled down swiftly, spreading Castiel's legs and looking up at Castiel through thick lashes. From base to tip, Dean licked up Castiel's cock and watched as the angel shivered, eyes closing. Still, even though his eyes were closed, Dean could imagine the clear blue pools that were Castiel's eyes becoming stormy and dark with the unfamiliar feeling of lust.

As he licked again, languidly, Dean rubbed his thumbs along Castiel's sexy, slender hips in small circles. The angel brought his hands down into Dean's hair for purchase; he felt too lost, too fragile and vulnerable in this peculiar act - especially with Dean being at the center of it all.

Dean, content with the fact that Castiel was high on _him_, brought the tip of Castiel's cock into his mouth, licking the slit. Castiel's fingers tugged at Dean's hair, the angel's eyes opening just enough to watch Dean (who was also watching the delectable little angel). Castiel silently watched, with his eyes fixated on Dean's mouth, as Dean sucked at the tip of his erection continuously; at the sight, Castiel couldn't help but grunt.

It felt good, the wet heat of Dean's mouth around his head, but Castiel wanted more; this surprised him, as he had never really _wanted_, much less wanted _more_. Castiel's breath was coming in tiny pants, barely, and his eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the sight of Dean on his knees looking up at him with his mouth on...

Good _Lord_.

Castiel groaned, eyes shutting again, trying to focus. It didn't work.

Almost immediately after Castiel closed his eyes, Dean lapped at a little pearl of pre-cum on the angel's slit and pulled away to move upwards and kiss Castiel, letting the angel taste himself. Dean lazily explored Castiel's mouth again, the taste never getting too familiar for him, and he felt the angel's hands stroking his hair. Dean briefly wondered what it would feel like to have Castiel's hands on his shaft, his pretty little mouth around him, and that tongue that he'd recently gotten to know tracing patterns on his cock.

He didn't have to wonder for long because, while the kiss was going on, upon tasting himself on Dean's tongue, Castiel had a strange feeling overcome him: the need to touch. This time, the angel was the one to break away from the kiss, Dean's eyes narrowing in confusion and partial annoyance. Castiel tried to mimic Dean's movements from before; he unbuttoned the man's jeans, unzipped them, and reached inside until he felt all of Dean's length against his hand.

When Dean registered the hand on his dick, he placed his forehead on the angel's shoulder, growling, and bucked his hips into the tentative touch. "Cas," Dean muttered lowly, trying to persuade the coy angel into doing the dirty little deed.

Castiel really didn't need much persuasion; he wanted to make Dean feel good, he wanted to return the favor. So, he recalled the things Dean had done before and copied them as best as he could, adding his own personal touch (kind of literally). He trailed his fingers up and down Dean's shaft, a shallow hold at first, and then he squeezed. He felt Dean's breath become uneven against his collarbone, the warmness of it all making him want to smile for some reason.

But he continued, the smile never forming, and he let his thumb swipe across the top of Dean's dick. A shudder moved through Dean, his hands wrapping loosely around Castiel's waist, gently pulling him closer. The angel moved his hand slowly, up and down, in a soft and sure motion; he then, however, remembered what Dean had done after...

Castiel internally sighed and worked up his courage, trying not to let his nervousness get the better of him, and moved to his knees. This caught Dean off-guard, since the man had been leaning against the angel slightly, but he let the angel go, his eyes following the angel's movements.

Releasing Dean's dick from its confines, Castiel looked at it for a moment, hand still gripping the base. He vividly remembered what Dean had done to him and, once again, tried to do it his own way. Castiel lapped at the head like a kitten would normally do to milk and kept his eyes half-lidded and away from Dean's critical eyes. After a few licks, Castiel let his lips close around the leaking head and he poked at the slit with his tongue.

Dean swayed, a groan emanating from his throat without his permission. He really couldn't help himself - Castiel wasn't _great _at what he was doing but just the fact that it was _him _made Dean's arousal grow. Dean felt the angel's tongue and mouth on him, on his dick, and not even fully, just on the head, but it still made him feel hot-

-And perhaps just a little bit naughty, having an angel drop to suck him off like that.

But Castiel rose, like Dean had, and barely pecked his lips before gingerly biting the corner of Dean's mouth in an oddly endearing way. Dean let his arms drape around Castiel's waist again, hands moving up and down the small of the angel's back and dipping dangerously low. He let his mouth press against the Castiel's ear, the angel holding on to his forearms, and nipped lightly on the earlobe.

Their hips were pressed together, their arousals hardly touching; Dean grinded into the Castiel's hips, eliciting a low moan, his breath hitching and catching in his throat. Once more, Dean's hands moved down, diving just under the material of the angel's boxers and barely reaching its sure destination before coming up again.

Dean played with Castiel's pants for a moment, his possessive nature making him pull the angel closer until they were hip to hip and chest to chest. Quickly, though, he hooked his index fingers on either end of Castiel's pants and boxers, sliding them down leisurely. Dean felt Castiel twitch against the foreign movements, but the angel relaxed in his arms and let Dean do as he pleased.

As he slid Castiel's garments lower and lower, Dean crouched down to place kisses all along his hipbone. When the pants and boxers were completely lowered, Castiel stepped out of his shoes, pants, boxers and generally everything else while Dean continued to place light kisses along his hip; at one point, he went as far as to bite on the sensitive flesh there.

When Dean came back up, he took Castiel's mouth as if it were his essence, plundering it with his tongue, mapping out the moist cavern and leaving Castiel without breath. As he did this, he led the angel towards the closest bed. Castiel had felt the edge of the bed knock against the backs of his knees, so he instinctively sat, Dean coming down with him but suddenly pulling away.

He had a bad habit of doing that, didn't he?

Castiel watched, completely captivated, as Dean stepped out of his remaining clothing; the actions were so graceful and confident and _real _that Castiel was brought back to reality and he actually considered what was about to happen for a moment before realizing he had really no clue what was going to transpire in the motel room on that night. Too late to think about that though.

Now completely nude, Dean leaned forward and captured the angel's lips again. Castiel scooted backwards a little, but Dean followed, spreading Castiel's legs wide open and kneeling between them as the two of them kissed. Castiel tore himself away, leaving Dean no choice but to push the angel down and attack the expanse of neck that lay there so invitingly. Simultaneously, Dean grinded his hips down, their cocks touching and moving and sliding against each other deliciously and slowly.

However, Dean stopped grinding, much to Castiel's disdain, and came face to face with the angel, their eyes meeting. "Cas," Dean stated, two of his fingers tracing Castiel's mouth, "suck."

At first, the request was startling to Castiel - strange and demeaning, even. Still, he told himself that Dean was doing this for a reason, so he let the fingers into his mouth and did as told. He licked and sucked at the digits, trying not to focus too much on the eyes scrutinizing him from above.

It wasn't Dean's fault anyway; Castiel was too fucking sexy and innocent for his own good. It shouldn't have been possible for such a pairing of traits to exist.

When Castiel's tongue became a bit of a distraction, Dean pulled his hand away (but not his eyes) and trailed the fingers down until they reached Castiel's puckered hole. Dean circled the hole for a while, watching as Castiel's eyes widened slightly and his frame shuddered over and over again. If it was due to anticipation or fear, Dean did not know (he guessed it was the latter), but he leaned back and used his free hand to draw little patterns across Castiel's thigh anyway, to calm his angel down. Castiel's shivers lessened and Dean assumed that it was working.

Glancing down, Dean licked his lips and prodded the hole with his index finger slowly; Castiel was still really tense. Dean looked back up at the angel's face and said, "Cas, if you don't relax, this is gonna hurt more than it has to."

Nodding, Castiel tried to settle his nerves. He tried to think of the parks he was so fond of or the red meat his vessel enjoyed so thoroughly. Finally, Dean found that the hole wasn't as taut, so he pressed through until he couldn't and felt Castiel's rings of muscle clench and unclench. He scissored his fingers carefully, keeping an eye on Castiel's expressions, and caressed the angel's thigh soothingly.

The feeling wasn't painful for the angel; the intrusion was just bothersome. He felt the fingers inside of him, stretching him out uncomfortably. It stayed like that for a short while, Dean simply stretching him-

-And then the fingers moved a different way, jerking in and out of him in a way that seemed incredibly crude, especially with Dean's arousal swirling in the dark eyes watching the angel. Castiel fisted the sheets underneath him loosely in shock and some kind of twisted pleasure, his back arching off the bed a little.

Dean loved it when Castiel arched; the angel's lithe body was perfect and beautiful. Despite all of the fighting and bleeding and punching and stabbing, Castiel's skin was unmarred. The skin was smooth and receptive to his touch. It made Dean lean down and kiss him - small, light kisses - on his mouth, on his jaw, on his neck...

By the time Dean reached Castiel's hips (which were my _God _gorgeous), Dean had pulled his fingers out of the angel. Dean leaned back and waited until Castiel's blue eyes met his own green ones, the angel's head tilting in that adorable way, and then he eased the tip of his cock into Castiel's tight heat. His eyes were focused on the angel completely, watching when Castiel bit his lip and his eyes widened.

Cautiously, Dean pushed in, taking his time so as to not hurt or scare the angel away; this was no simple feat. When you are just _this close _to fucking a virgin angel in the ass, arousal and energy aren't exactly _easy _to contain. In fact, it's almost impossible. Dean, however, being the exception to probably every rule ever created for mankind, was taking his damn sweet time pushing his cock into his perfect little angel.

Castiel felt it; he felt the throbbing heat, the sweat gathering near his brow, the intensity of Dean's sharp stare watching him be torn into... He felt _everything_. It was too much and the angel tensed, his entire body feeling too exposed.

The angels muscles were clenching _all around him_. Dean bit back a groan (of pain or pleasure, he wasn't sure) and pushed forward to the hilt. A shudder ran down his spine and Dean set out to find the bundle of perfect little nerves that would make his angel arch and moan and loosen with lust, _just for him_.

So Dean thrust calmly, slowly, in and out of Castiel's tight heat again and again. He observed as the angel's eyes closed and harsh pants came out of swollen pink lips. After about ten seconds of this, Dean threw caution to the wind and thrust faster, Castiel's throat emitting small whines. The angel's passage became slicker and wetter with Dean's pre-cum leaking out of his tip and pretty soon, both the angel and the hunter were comfortable with the arrangement.

And then Dean hit the angel's pleasure center.

"Dean," Castiel moaned - continuously, persistently, like a mantra. Castiel's back remained in a permanent arch as Dean began on a faster rhythm, constantly assaulting the area that had the angel in a haze.

Castiel couldn't think, he didn't say anything that wasn't the hunter's name. _Dean_. It was his lifeline, the one thing he could surely hold on to, and he held onto it tightly as he felt the owner of the name moving inside of him. _God_, it filled him with this tingly feeling of need, of needing to move, of needing to feel as the pleasure mounted.

He knew it was bad timing, but Dean felt his pride swell. He was making an _angel of the freaking Lord _writhe underneath him and fuck if that didn't feel awesome.

There was just one little problem.

Castiel wasn't looking at him. In fact, the angel's eyes were screwed shut.

"Cas," Dean panted, thrusts never slowing, "look at me."

The angel heard the words, barely, above his own incessant mumbling (of Dean's name of course), and opened his eyes to meet emerald orbs. Castiel saw Dean's stare on him, on his body, consumed with passion, and the desire pooled lower and lower until he started meeting Dean's movements. He placed his hands on the man's shoulders and, still being strong in his rather irrational state, pushed Dean onto his back.

When met with a puzzled look from the man beneath him, Castiel tilted his head and shrugged. "You were taking too long."

With his hands still on Dean's shoulders, Castiel began a much faster pace; that would've been surprising, given his position, if it weren't for the fact that Dean had, indeed, been taking his sweet damn time thrusting into the impatient angel.

But Dean wasn't complaining. He had a beautiful view. He saw a stray strand of hair fall into the angel's darkened (but still perfect) blue eyes, the parted lips letting out little moans and groans now and again, the long expanse of fair-hued flesh covered by at thin layer of sweat, and the bobbing, leaking erection...

Dean grinned, while locked in a gaze with the angel, and wrapped his hand around the angel's cock, stroking it and thumbing the slit. Castiel's rhythm broke slightly and he slumped forward a little. The hunter felt the ring of muscle around him clench and unclench spastically and he jerked his hips upwards into Castiel, the angel still moving up and down in sort of a trance.

The strokes on the angel's weeping arousal became quicker, more slick and wet and downright obscene, and Dean felt himself coming closer to his release simply by looking at the sight above him. In his defense though, it was a pretty cum-worthy sight.

Castiel felt it too. The little impulse telling him to go faster, telling him that he was so damn close, so he kept going, the hand around his cock still working. It felt so good, the heat he felt was so fierce, and the large grin plastered on Dean's face wasn't helping at all. If anything, it was making him hotter.

_Too hot, too hot..._

"Dean."

With Dean's name on his (slightly abused) lips, the angel came in long, pearlescent rivulets all along Dean's chest; his entire lower body was taut and tense. Dean kept thrusting upwards, the clenched muscles fitting around his cock almost too nicely and enabling his own wet release moments after.

Castiel lifted himself upwards and, although he looked pretty ravished, his stamina was also a lot better than a human's, so he just got up and, with the bedsheets, decided to clean Dean's chest of his...essence.

Dean, however, being a human being and all that, felt the strings of sleep tugging at him. He pulled Castiel down on top of him and covered them both with the same bedsheets, holding Castiel as close as possible.

He didn't care that they were wet and nude and sticky. He wanted to sleep.

"Cas, stay with me."

Nuzzling into Dean's warmth, the angel nodded and Dean was asleep within minutes.

-{}-{}-{}-{}-

The next morning, Dean woke up to find Cas missing, but his brother was reading something on a chair by the door. He assumed Castiel had left when he felt Sam enter the room and smiled at the thought of Castiel being embarrassed by their position.

Sam looked up to find his brother was awake and gave Dean his famous bitchface. "Dude, why did you go to sleep _naked_? Do you understand that I'm scarred for life now?"

Dean's smile widened.

He really wanted some pie.


End file.
